


Head over Heels

by littlemaple



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bouncer Alfred, M/M, Mild Language, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Stripper Arthur, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 05:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15430470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemaple/pseuds/littlemaple
Summary: It's on Alfred to take Arthur home after someone puts something in his drink.





	1. Night time

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This was posted on my tumblr some time ago and I decided to bring it here to the archive as well.   
> I want to bring all my short drabbles over here but I still haven't thought of a Cool Name (tm) for the collection. So welp. Have this.

“You need to take him home.”

“What happened to him?”

“Someone put something in his drink.”

“Shit, shouldn’t we take him to a hospital?”

“I’m  _fiiine_.”

Arthur leaned against the wall, or tried to, because he missed and almost fell. He laughed to himself as he tried to steady himself up, and fell down on an armchair. He was wearing nothing but boots, tight boxers and a lot of glitters.

“Goddamnit, Kirkland, I told you to get dressed!” their boss hissed, but Arthur just rolled his eyes and mimicked him.

As for Alfred, he sighed.

“It’s the third time someone’s put something in your drinks this year, Arthur, you should stop accepting drinks, you know?”

“I get extra tips if I drink a bit with the clients after the show,” Arthur rolled his eyes, his head rolling back. He seemed groggy, and Alfred worried he’d fall on the floor and hurt himself.

So he grabbed Arthur’s trench coat and tossed it his way.

“Put it on, I’m taking you home.”

When he took that job as a strip club bouncer, he would never have guessed he’d ever get close to any of the strippers. He hadn’t been interested in such things either, then.

But then, of course, there was Arthur Kirkland.

He was one of the best of the house, and he could drive any man crazy (and penniless) in a couple hours. He certainly got in Alfred’s head with all his winking, flirting and lip biting when he knew Alfred was looking and while they were chatting before the club opened. Arthur was funny and charismatic, and, well…

The bastard was the definition of sexy, which was great for the business, but terrible for Alfred.

He had to deal with a lot of creeps.

And with Arthur himself, too, because he was careless and was always trying to get that extra dollar.

Stupid bastard.

The drive to Arthur’s place was quiet for the most part.

Until Arthur, lying down on the backseat, asked:

“Alfred, would you fuck me?”

And Alfred coughed out his embarrassment.

_Yes, I would_.

“Ask me that when you’re not drugged.”

Arthur hummed.

“Write that down somewhere in my apartment so I’ll remember. I’d like that, you know. I’ve… I’ve got a crush on you, you know… big time.”

_You always say that when you conveniently won’t be able to remember in the morning, asshole_.

“Yeah, I like you too, Arthur.”

There was a pause.

“You do?”

“Yeah, what the hell. You won’t remember this anyway, so. Yeah. I like you.”

“Oh…”

Arthur didn’t say anything after that. Alfred stopped the car in front of his building, and he had to pick Arthur up because he tripped over his own feet leaving the car, and Alfred didn’t want him to get hurt.

Arthur nuzzled on his chest and smiled to himself, arms around Alfred’s neck, and Alfred blushed like crazy.

As he put Arthur down on his bed, Arthur rolled over and grabbed a notepad and a pen from his nightstand, and scribbled something. He looked confused, and then handed Alfred both objects.

“I can’t… write. So. Write it down. That you like me,” he chuckled, his eyes distant.

“How about I say that tomorrow?” he proposed, and Arthur nodded.

“I’d like that…”

Alfred helped Arthur put on pajamas and get under the covers, and then headed to Arthur’s couch. He didn’t want to leave him alone, in case he got sick.

Besides, he needed to have that talk with Arthur the following day. He wrote it down, too, in case he’d chicken out and give up saying anything.


	2. The morning after

Arthur had a terrible headache when he woke up. He groaned as he literally rolled out of bed. The world was spinning and he felt like throwing up. He gulped as he stood up, grimacing at the hard-dry feeling in his throat.

He felt like absolute garbage. He could barely remember the previous night; how much did he drink? How was he wearing pajamas? – he usually fell face first on his bed and slept with his uncomfortable costumes and boots on. He still had glitter all over, but no boots.

Huh.

He wiggled to the kitchen but stopped at the living room. There was a blanket and a jacket and sneakers there. Had someone slept there? Did someone bring him home?

Alfred?

A few hazy memories came back, and Arthur sat down on the couch to try and organize them. Yeah, he was pretty sure it had been Alfred who had brought him home and…

… there was a notebook on his coffee table and the notebook was full of scribbles and crossed out sentences and it was really messy but it said things like  ~~I really like you Arthur~~  and  ~~Will you go out with me?~~  and  ~~We need to talk~~  and  ~~I really like your eyes and your hair and I think you’re really funny and smart and I have a crush on you~~  and Arthur stared at it all, blushing, out of breath, happy.

“Oh, shit.”

He looked up and Alfred was there, staring at him. His face was red. Arthur stared back.

“Did you write this?” he asked.

“I, uh, you see… You asked me to. Last night,” Alfred answered.

“Huh,” Arthur looked at the notebook, “sounds like something I’d ask…”

He put the notebook down, and he wanted to stand up and walk to Alfred cat-likely, smirking, and place a finger on his chest, and stare up at his eyes and kiss the shit out of him and press him against the wall as he did so.

He stood up, but was forced to sit back down. The world was spinning again. He wanted to throw up.

“You look like death, are you ok?” Alfred asked, worry in his voice.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re pale. I was making breakfast; I guess you should eat…” Alfred said, walking to Arthur and placing a big hand on his forehead.

Arthur shivered.

“If you do…” Arthur started, and Alfred looked down at him, expectant. Arthur looked away. “Never mind.”

“No, what? C’mon, are you feeling really ok?”

Arthur shook his head.

“C’mon, Arthur. Don’t be stubborn now. What are you feeling? Tell me,” Alfred insisted.

Arthur shook his head again.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“ _Arthur_.”

Arthur closed his eyes.

“I’d say yes.”

A pause, then “To what?”

Arthur didn’t say anything, gulping. It was hard to think. He felt sick. He felt angry – that was not how he had planned to talk to Alfred about that. If he ever felt ready to, that is. There was so much to think about, to consider. Would Alfred even want to date him?

“You’re worrying me, man.”

Arthur sighed.

“To you asking me out, I’d say yes.”

“Oh…”

A long pause.

Arthur wanted to crawl back to bed and disappear until his headache was gone.

A chuckle.

Arthur looked up at Alfred again.

“I know. You… you kinda said so last night. You really look like shit though, so we can talk later, ok? Let’s put some food in you. Then scold you for taking drinks from strangers, and then when you’re feeling better, you know… we can talk about this.” Alfred suggested. He was not making eye contact, but scratching the back of his head, smiling awkwardly.

Arthur nodded.

“But the tips are really good…” he pouted.

Alfred groaned comically loud. Arthur chuckled.

“Thanks for taking care of me…” he managed to say.

Alfred blushed, nodding.

“I do have a crush on you, but Imma still charge extra hours for all this,” he bluntly added.

“Arsehole,” Arthur rolled his eyes, blushing, spinning, feeling head over heels. It was good to hear Alfred saying that.  _I have a crush on you._ It was really, really good.


End file.
